


High Noon

by nishiki



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, I have No Excuse, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strangers to Lovers, Yakuza Genji Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, barkeeper Jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: A handsome stranger turns Jesse McCree's world on its head.





	High Noon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ParanoidMaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParanoidMaru/gifts).



Opening up this bar had been a childhood dream. Every time he had walked past the closed-off saloon during his childhood days, he had paused for a second to allow himself to dream of better times, of more adventurous times than these when cowboys had roamed the streets of Santa Fe and envisioned himself how he would stand behind the counter of this saloon, becoming a piece of history himself with each day he would spend polishing glasses and giving out drinks. Needless to say, his grandfather had been all too eager to crush his dreams as he told him that the saloon had been built in the fifties and closed because the previous owner had been involved in drug deals with the local mafia. Still, Jesse had never given up and now he was here, behind the counter of his own saloon, waiting for guests and adventure, polishing glasses and being confronted with the same faces every day.

What had not been part of his dream, however, was to find a mobster bleeding out in the back alley of his bar between the dumpsters. One might ask now how it came to this but to answer that question, we would need to backtrack a little. Five weeks, to be precise.

Jesse McCree’s usuals were a bunch of old drunks from all around town, some of which he knew from his childhood. It was a miracle that they were even still alive, now that he came to think about it. Their livers should have given in years ago, yet they were all still running strong and still flocking to this saloon. He had been quick to realize that this life as a barman was a lot simpler and much more boring than he would have envisioned it to be as a wee lad. Yet, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. He was living his dream, even if his dream meant to mop up puke at noon. Well, no one said living your dreams was pretty, right?

This all changed, however, when those two men stumbled into his bar for the first time. It was not a sudden change like lightning striking him in an instant and turning his whole world upside down. It was more like a slow gradual change that he barely noticed at first. That they were mobsters were without question the moment he first saw them. Then again, maybe they were just two more lost souls who had immigrated from their country to find a better life in the good old U, S and A. At least they looked like those stereotypical Asians who had spent their days watching American movies to learn English and figured that people actually walked around like this in this rich and beautiful country. Their clothes were the carbon copy of what one might see in the Godfather, all pinstripes and sleek edges, tailored perfectly to their lean bodies. The fedora on the head of the taller of the two, just topped the look off. 

He couldn't deny that they looked good in those clothes, however, no matter how much they screamed mafia at everyone who might want to listen. Especially the taller of the two, a sour looking young man with a firm jaw and eyes like razor blades, could pull this look off without looking just too ridiculous. They certainly had to learn a thing or two about discretion if they truly were part of the mafia. Then again, Santa Fe really wasn't the place for two guys like them. Drug cartels ruled this area of the country and two Asian guys playing gangsters were just the much-welcomed surprise to those guys. 

For five weeks straight those men would arrive at the bar at the exact same time, 11:59, would sit down at the table in the darkest corner of the room, order two whiskeys in broken English and talk in hushed voices. After the first few visits, Jesse began noticing the similarities between the two men and started to realize that they surely were brothers and not just acquaintances. Then, after a while, he noticed how the younger of the two looked over at him behind the counter every now and again only to turn back to his brother with a shit-eating grin and a whisper on his lips.

Needless to say, Jesse was not exactly bothered by this behavior. Usually, he would only tip his beloved old cowboy hat at them and keep cleaning glasses because these days this seemed to be the only thing any good barkeeper was supposed to do. He didn't take it as a threat either. In a place like this, it was always wise to keep a shotgun under the counter just in case. It wasn't his first rodeo and they wouldn't be the first to try and claim dangeld from him - if that was the reason for the younger man’s stares, that was.

Still, it wasn't the younger of the two men who provoked Jesse’s interest but the older one who would usually talk in a measured calm voice to the other guy and only rarely lift his eyes from whatever drink was put in front of him. However, whenever their eyes did meet Jesse couldn't help but feel his interest spark even more. It wasn’t just curiosity, though this was the common trait of every barkeeper. Curiosity killed the cat and Jesse McCree had always been incredibly curious.

That curiosity was, in the end, what led him to end up in this situation in which he had a bleeding stranger propped up against his bathtub. Even for someone as adventurous as Jesse McCree, it was not the norm to have bleeding Yakuzas in his bathroom, even though some of his patrons seemed to expect exactly that from him as it sometimes seemed. 

So, one might ask him how in the world something like this could have happened and to them, Jesse would have to say that he had honestly no idea. He had found the man, Hanzo as he had muttered, in the alley just outside his bar and decided against all better judgment to take him in. After all, the man was a paying customer who had ventured into his bar for five whole weeks at this point. Call it good customer service if you might.

Maybe for once, he should have listened to his mother's words of wisdom to not always take strays home but what kind of person would he have been had he ignored a dying man?

»I am not dying.« It was the first thing, besides his own name, that the stranger told him now that he was almost naked on the rim of his bathtub as if he could read his mind. The first thing Jesse noticed was that his English was not at all as broken and uncertain as it had been the past weeks. Sure, his accent was thick but those brothers had clearly played him. »It's but a scratch.«

»Yeah? Well, that scratch is almost three inches deep and needs stitches.« Jesse mocked with a roll of his eyes as he cleaned up the blood from the gush in Hanzo’s side. It was hard to tell what had struck the other man. A stray bullet mayhaps. A blade? »Looks more like someone tried to make spit roast out of you, Bud. So, where’s your friend?«

Hanzo's look was one of confusion until he grasped the meaning of his words. »My brother.« He corrected. »Genji. I have no idea. Probably safe. That little weasel always manages to come out on top.« 

Truly the loving words of an older brother. Not that Jesse would know anything about that. »So what's the story then? You guys ran into an aggressive porcupine or what?« The glare he got in response was impressive, to say the least, but Jesse knew that his grin was usually quite disarming. It seemed though as if Hanzo had not gotten the memo yet because his expression never changed and remained a mask of indifference. Well, if anything, it turned even sourer.

»I appreciate the help, Mr. McCree-«

»Jesse.« He interrupted quickly. »Mr. McCree is my father.«

»Anyway.« Hanzo cut him off. Heck, talk about polite Asians. »You don't want to get mixed up in this. So it's best for you to know as little as possible about my business in this city.« 

»As far as I see it, I am already pretty mixed up in all of this I mean I have a bleeding Yakuza in my bathroom. How much more mixed up could I become?« He asked with a wink as he finished patching him up to the best of his abilities with the limited supplies he had. It wasn’t as if he was running a hospital, after all. The most he needed his first aid kit for was when he had cut himself on a broken glass again.

The young man seemed surprised for a moment but then he just scoffed in response to Jesse’s words. »I am assuming our wardrobe was more successful in gaining attention than averting it.«

»You betcha.« Jesse smirked with a small glance at the jacket, vest, and shirt on the ground. Apparently, he had lost his hat somewhere else. A shame. »Not many Japanese guys around here that dress like the Godfather himself.«

»We were ambushed.« Hanzo finally admitted with a deep sigh. He didn't sound defeated, though. If anything, he was annoyed. »We ran straight into a trap.«

»And your brother?«

»He probably fled to somewhere safe. I don't think he is in any danger. Even though he would deserve it. This was his idea, after all.«

As their eyes met, there was the flicker of something else ghosting over his face. The biting of his bottom lip, a brewing storm behind the dark pits of his eyes. »Anyway.« Hanzo said again and tried to stand despite the gush in his left side. »I should get going now. I don't wish to repay your kindness in dragging you into danger.«

»You are safer here than anywhere else, Pal.« Jesse shrugged. »Just stay the night.« 

They both knew that this was more than the kind offer of help and there was no question about it. He had seen it in Hanzo's eyes and not just now. They had been dancing around it every time Hanzo had entered his bar. In the end, Hanzo nodded.

※※※※※※※

Hanzo reached between their bodies to take hold of Jesse and was obviously not displeased with the weight that settled into his palm— thick enough to entice and long enough to drive him into a frenzy. There was no reason to waste time and energy on wondering how they got here or whether or not this was a good idea in the state Hanzo was currently in, Jesse decided as he watched how those dark eyes were sizing up his size and shape. The crinkle of a condom packet was just a distant blur of noise as Hanzo fisted his dick. What did, in the end, make him glance down was Hanzo’s slick hand rolling the condom down his shaft with practiced ease while the man aligns himself.

Jesse’s breath came out in a rush and the only thing he could do was to throw back his head and latch onto the first thing that was in his path - which happened to be Hanzo’s left forearm - as his cock breached Hanzo’s entrance and is slowly engulfed by slick tightness. 

Everything that had happened between them up until this point was just a blur to Jesse now. The one moment he had been patching up the other guy in his bathroom, the next his lips were upon his, taking and taking and taking whatever he wanted. Hanzo, despite his reserved attitude, was clearly a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Not that Jesse would complain about it. Hanzo stuck to a steady pattern of breath as he took all of Jesse in. For a minute he seemed to lose himself while comfortably seated on Jesse whose tight grip was either ignored or unnoticed.

Only after he made acquaintance with the constricting warmth around his cock and got used to the lazy grind of Hanzo’s hips did he release the anchor he had found on the man's arm. His hands fall to dig into the pliant flesh of Hanzo’s ass and alternate between tightening and release during the short recess. This was far from the first time that Jesse had slept with a total stranger but the fact that he knew only that Hanzo was part of the criminal underworld made it all the more enticing. Later, he decided, there would be plenty of time to ponder the things that had happened tonight or how he got himself mixed up in all of this.

»You require instructions?« The yakuza mocked while shallow rocks of his hips sent gentle waves of pleasure down Jesse’s dick. Hanzo’s palms were spread flush across the dusting of Jesse’s chest hair and the weight of him was not unpleasant at all. Each slow drag of Hanzo’s cock across the path towards Jesse’s bellybutton smeared more pre-come into coarse hairs and it took Jesse no longer than a few heartbeats to turn the tables, pin Hanzo, and start a thorough plunge into pleasure.

Hanzo accepted him quickly between his thighs and arched up into each roll of hips.

Every thrust came down with a soft pant and Hanzo pushed back just as hard to the point where Jesse wasn’t even certain anymore who was holding the reins. As he picked up tempo and pleasure started to spread flush across his body, he fucked Hanzo as if there was no tomorrow, because there might not be one if he didn’t satisfy. Although Hanzo hadn’t threatened him until now, there was no reason not to believe that the yakuza could kill him in at least a hundred different ways right here and now if he would desire to. Better not give him a reason.

It didn’t come as a shock either that Hanzo refused being bound to one place and one position and so they were moving from the bed before Jesse could even get a grip on his own body.

For some reason, the barkeeper was not even surprised to find Hanzo fitting himself onto the clearest patch of the table in Jesse’s living room and didn't guide Jesse as much as firmly planted him into a position to his liking. The light from the neon sign outside shone through one of the dirty windows allowing a look into the busy street in front of Jesse’s saloon and painted even sharper lines on Hanzo’s tones torso than before now. There was no denying that he was gorgeous in his own way and the huge tattoo of a dragon that spread over his left arm and shoulder had fascinated Jesse from the first moment he had seen it. 

They fuck like lovers they were not and Jesse lacked opportunity and motivation to feel regret. It didn't cross his mind to lament while he pulled and pawed at Hanzo and drove himself into a body that accepted him with gusto. In his eyes, there was no reason to regret it or to overthink it too much. Hanzo would be gone when morning came. He just knew that this would be the case and there was no need to talk about it. The other guy would leave Santa Fe with his brother and never return. Maybe, he wondered, he would remain a sweet memory for Hanzo during lonely nights and this would be enough.

Under the pretense of keeping Hanzo in place on the table, he mapped out the planes of his torso, smoothed up his sides, counting each ridge and rib. Hanzo pushed into his hands, off the table and showed off, and Jesse couldn't help but wonder whether the man truly enjoyed the attention or if this is a show pitched at him for some inane reason. His right slithered up to Hanzo’s neck where his pressure against a hammering pulse hurled the yakuza into a moment of apprehension. He was lulled into a state of bliss once he saw the wanton look in dark coals instead of homicide intentions.

Jesse removed the wandering touch because he was getting a tad bit too touchy-feely with someone he hardly knew anything about. Though his touch grew reluctant, his eyes covertly poured over every dip and swell of Hanzo’s straining body. He dipped his head to look at where he fucked into Hanzo’s body and felt the heat of the other’s breath wash across his ear.

Ragged breaths blew hotly over Jesse’s collarbone and up his chin and kissing the man crossed Jesse’s mind. The idea elbowed its way up to the front of his mind that this might be completely off-mark, but it was Hanzo who finishes what he didn't even have the balls to start.

A hand firm against his nape lowered him into a mess of a kiss, all tongue, and debauched sloppiness. A gruff moan that ripped through Hanzo prompted Jesse to shove his tongue further down the man's throat and embed himself deeper into his ass until Hanzo’s malleable body couldn't hold the sheer weight of his body anymore and Jesse lost purchase.

He found himself all but glued torso-to-torso with Hanzo for a couple of confusing moments and retreats far enough to resume a steady tempo. Jesse felt the lip-lock has meddled into his sense of judgment and the blunder was enough to fish out admissions from depths of his mind. He didn't want this weird guy in the pinstriped suit that was now discarded across his entire apartment, to leave Santa Fe just like this. 

The alluring burn of dark eyes held contest for Jesse's notice with whitening knuckles, the clench of Hanzo's hand and flexing of muscles while he groped for purchase on the table. Hanzo's breathing was notched, thighs tense, but his hips worked persistently to the drum of Jesse's thrusts. He didn't settle for receiving but rolls back to take and take and take and drove himself down a certain path he had set for himself.

For just a split second Jesse wished to teach him that certainty is a commodity he couldn’t afford in life, or at least not this time while Jesse held the proverbial reigns. The yakuza submitted to being handled roughly, for the time being, yielded into the grip and hard snap of Jesse’s hips. Teeth ripped at his bottom lip in hope of alleviating the mix of pain and pleasure that rough fucking brings.

When he had worked the man up into a visible frenzy, Jesse reached for his dick, but his hand was slapped and pushed to the side as soon as it made contact with the flushed crown of Hanzo’s shaft. If the man wanted it so, then so be it. 

Jesse shifted to coax him onto his belly, but Hanzo seemed to have a dislike for the position and held Jesse firmly between his thighs. The unfortunate captive huffed out a sigh but obliged, grasped with both hands at the junction of his torso and hip, hammered in. The jump of Hanzo’s cock assured him he held  an intermittent pressure on something inside that gave the man pleasure. With no further twisting and turning, he commenced a steady pace and drove himself into the welcoming pull of Hanzo’s body with a sadistic enjoyment and no meager amount of brutish force.

Hanzo was way past salvation at this point anyway.

Though his pleasure wasn’t vocal this time, the sheer amount of trained discipline he utilizes to cover it up was enough to tell that he was at a breaking point. Jesse’s hold was physically slipping, hands too slick with perspiration, and Hanzo was in a similar state with a fine sheen of sweat layering his body, gathering above the low droop of his brows.

Jesse heaved the last gasps of a losing battle, let go of Hanzo’s thigh to slither up his undulating abdominals. He swept one last time across the tightening muscles and retreated, knowing better than to shower attentions on the man’s cock this time.

Strangely, Hanzo removed himself from Jesse's sight as best he could manage in this position; down there somewhere he was fisting through his own hair and panting into the crook of his bent arm over his pale face, mouth gaping and saliva pooling beneath his tongue as he gasped wetly. The man was clearly lost to the world at this point. Jesse kept his pace with unchecked power and dug into the strength of Hanzo’s body with avarice until Hanzo was pushed over the precipice and into a shuddering climax.

Everything started to tighten around Jesse until even breathing became a chore, then impossible. Through the throes of pleasure, he wondered if it was alright and allowed to spill inside, even with given circumstances. His speed faltered for a couple of heartbeats, but Hanzo wore a stern look of disapproval and kept him embedded. The flash of something bestial in the dark pools of his eyes hiding behind a low scowl is what pushed him to his limit, but the burden of that gaze was too much for Jesse to carry and he closed eyes against it, rode out his orgasm in shallow rocks and slowly brings his labored breathing back in line.

He felt boneless for the briefest moment before he picked himself up and untangled his body from Hanzo’s.

»Gods almighty.«  Hanzo's voice couldn't  be louder than a whisper as he spoke up at last. »Color me impressed.«  

Jesse’s smirk was the only response he got for the moment being. There was blood seeping through the band aide on his side but Hanzo either didn't notice or refused to acknowledge it. Judging from what he gathered so far, the latter would be true. This guy was a stubborn bastard for certain and Jesse wouldn't mind to see him in his saloon the next day again. 

That night, Jesse only got little sleep and it wasn't because of his usual financial worries for once. Still, as he woke up the next morning with the sunlight pouring through his dirty windows, he found himself alone, just as he had expected. Strolling through his apartment, there was no sign left of the fact that Hanzo had been here in the first place and for the longest moment, Jesse found himself wondering if he might have only dreamed up the encounter. If so, his mind deserved an Oscar. There were still bite marks on his shoulder and neck as he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in his bathroom mirror and a bloody piece of gauze in his sink.

Still, Hanzo was gone and he wouldn't return. All he had now wa the memory and he could live with that, he decided. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time he had done something like this and no matter how fascinating Hanzo was, this was not a fairy tale and it hadn't been love at first sight. There had been no thunder roaring in the distance and no lightning striking him on the spot when their eyes first met. 

Last night would remain a sweet little memory, he decided as he was polishing yet another glass behind the counter of his saloon this day while his usuals were already getting drunk before noon. Still, a part of him wished the other guy would have been there as he had woken up. Jesse had never been a man who wished to settle down, especially not now. He was too young for something serious, too wild to bind himself to another person and Hanzo didn't seem much different in this regard. Yet, he couldn't deny that his mind went to that place all throughout his day. 

The door to the saloon opened precisely at 11:59 and for some reason, Jesse didn't even feel the need to look up from his task to know who it was. 


End file.
